


Reverly

by sirenofodysseus



Series: Candles [3]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Candles, Community: 15genres1prompt, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Somebody within this room killed Osvaldo Ardiles, and I'm going to find out whom!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverly

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Mystery! 
> 
> This does have a few early season four spoilers.

  “Somebody within this room killed Osvaldo Ardiles, and I’m going to figure out whom!” Patrick Jane threw, as he leaned against the large oil painting of Gale Bertram and glanced around at the six people, who stared back at him in feint surprise from the glow of the lit candles. “I don’t think anybody had much respect for the District Attorney, but he deserves a decent slither of justice…doesn’t he?”

 

 Teresa Lisbon crossed her bare arms against her chest, and leaned forward from her spot on the leather couch to shake her head. “We’re defenders of the law, Jane! Why would we…”

 

            “Osvaldo knew something,” Jane interrupted. “He had something to tell me after dinner, and one of you…” Jane paused to eye Gale Bertram, who glanced from his shot of whisky in disdain. “…wanted to prevent him from speaking another word.”

           

            “Oh, come  _on_. You’re accusing me of murder  _again_?” Bertram asked in disbelief. “Don’t you ever get tired of being wrong, Patrick?”

 

            “You invited us to your fancy dinner party,  _Agent_ Bertram,” Jane commented. “Therefore, you had a motive and opportunity when the lights went out.”

 

            “Jane,” Luther Wainwright spoke, and the consultant shifted his focus on the young man-boss next to Lisbon. “Ardiles  _did_ have something to tell you…”

 

            “Aha!” Jane exclaimed, brightly as he pointed his finger at the startled boss. “Somebody should arrest this man for…”

 

            “Now, hold on!” Wainwright cried out. “I didn’t kill him! Ardiles approached me yesterday evening and said he had something important to tell you.” Jane opened his mouth to interrupt again, when Wainwright continued. “I have no idea what he wanted, but it sounded serious.”

 

            “What an unlikely story,” Jane scoffed. “You watched him slip off to the bathroom, the lights went out, and you had just enough time to…”

 

            “You’re just bitter and resentful that I called you a fully functioning psychopath,” Wainwright muttered. Lisbon shook her head again.

 

            “Uh…Jane?” Wayne Rigsby interrupted from next to Grace Van Pelt. Jane glanced at him. “If Wainwright was going to kill Ardiles, Wainwright probably would have killed him yesterday…wouldn’t he of?”

 

            “Besides,” Van Pelt continued from Rigsby’s point. “If Agent Wainwright had left, the boss would have felt him brush past her.” Jane glanced at Wainwright, who apparently thought he had been given the permission to glare. “I’m not a forensics expert, but it looked like Ardiles was killed with a brass candlestick holder and…” Van Pelt paused to glance around within the fancy parlor. “…none of the candlestick holders near Agent Wainwright are missing.” Van Pelt had a valid point, Jane quickly decided, though he would never tell her that.

 

            “You seem to know  _a lot_ about candlestick holders, Grace,” Jane pointed out, and Van Pelt shifted awkwardly. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

 

            “It’s a candlestick holder,” Cho replied. “There’s not much there to talk about.”

 

            “You’d need a lot of force to kill somebody with a candlestick holder, wouldn’t you?” Jane questioned Lisbon, who shrugged her shoulders in response. “I wonder how they did it.”

 

            “You can’t  _honestly_ be standing here and admiring the murderer or the murder weapon, Patrick!” Bertram admonished. “Ardiles is dead!”

 

            “Yes, he is,” Jane agreed with a shrug. “But, I honestly doubt we’re going to offend him by admiring the talents of a candlestick welder.” Lisbon raised her eyebrow. “We honestly aren’t, and I’ve always wanted to say that somebody killed somebody with a candlestick in the bathroom.” Jane brightly grinned, and Bertram slowly rose from the couch to frown.

 

            “It’s the principle!” Bertram addressed. “If you died…”

 

Jane raised his eyebrow. “If I die, I die.” Everybody grew silent. “Now, one of you killed him. Or maybe two of you killed him.” Jane glanced between Bertram and Wainwright, who both looked ready to kill. He honestly didn’t suspect  _everybody_ within the room, but it wasn’t very often that he was able to solve a real life whodunit style murder case with six  _live_ (and very realistic) suspects. “I think somebody should say jinkies.” Jane glanced at Wainwright, who furrowed his brows. Lisbon narrowed her eyes. “No?”

 

            “Why would you have any of us say it?” Van Pelt asked.

 

Jane shrugged again. “We’re solving the death of Osvaldo Ardiles, and…”

 

            “We’re technically  _not_ solving the death of Osvaldo Ardiles,” Rigsby returned. Everybody turned to glance at him. “We’re technically keeping a body in the bathroom three doors down, until the power comes back on and our phones start working again.”

 

            “He’s right.” Van Pelt agreed.

 

            “Jinkies!” Jane exclaimed, and Lisbon groaned. “Sorry. I thought it seemed rather appropriate.”

 

Bertram shook his head. “When is that  _ever_ appropriate, Patrick?”

 

            “I’m sure Ardiles would be smirking at my  _Scooby-Doo_ reference right now.”

 

            “He can’t smirk, Jane.” Lisbon answered. “He’s  _dead_.”

 

            “That’s an awfully cold thing to say, Lisbon,” Jane replied, seriously.

 

            “You  _just_ complimented his murderer!” Bertram cried. “You also implied something about Agent Wainwright, which I’m sure he didn’t appreciate.”

 

            “That’s different,” Jane defended. “Osvaldo is dead. The murderer is not. Agent Wainwright is offended by his own voice.”

 

            “I’m  _what_?”

 

            “It’s not worth it, sir,” Lisbon tried to pacify, before she glanced at Jane. “Jane! Knock it off!”

 

            “Not until Wainwright admits that he killed Ardiles.”

 

Wainwright crossed his arms against his chest. “We’ll be here all night, because I’m telling you—I didn’t  _do_ it.”

 

* * *

 

            “How  _do_ you actually kill somebody with a candlestick holder?” Red John inquired of Lisbon, as he helped her unzip from her evening wear. “I’m not even  _that_ creative, and I leave signatures behind.”

 

Lisbon threw him a light smirk over her bare shoulder, as she kicked the dress into the open closet. “Very carefully, of course.”

 

            “And he never suspected you?”

 

            “Jane?” Lisbon asked, as she moved toward the bed.

 

            “Of course, Teresa,” Red John replied, and Lisbon chuckled.

 

            “He was too busy accusing Wainwright and Bertram,” Lisbon explained. “I think he briefly accused Van Pelt, but the idea of me? No.” Lisbon shook her head, as she pulled down the cover. “I’m the Senior Agent. I’m supposed to be the good one, who doesn’t know how to turn a candlestick holder into a weapon of mass destruction.”

 

            “You? Good?” Red John laughed, slightly. “No way.”


End file.
